Gallup to Nowhere (after Ortiz)

Picturesque, yes it's picturesque!
	And the giant reptiles the restrooms
	the free water the rubber tomahawks
	yes and yes
	and all of that but what?

Skycity boy
	riding to town in the back of a pickup
	truck, yes I saw it too.
	How many times?
	and it all went by on the way to California.

I watched it in diapers
	munched chili seeds
	and washed them down with the leavings
	of strawberry pop from lips
	that spoke the ancient tongues
	of continent discoverers.

Ao, Na'nizhozhideeh naasha'
	Yeah, I come from Gallup.
	Gallup - sooty railroad town,
	the whole thing sprung
	from the insatiable hunger
	of burning steel for coal -
	Coal Avenue and the old brick works -
	Smoking and glowing
	belching out a townfull of yellow bricks
	each one proclaiming GALLUP.

Old houses perched on the sandstone
	the smell of coal on winter nights
	my grandmother's house
	with it's mysterious basement.
	Born in St. Mary's hospital
	They tore it down a few years back
	Tore out the whole north side
	Tore out the stone houses of miners
	who had burrowed for coal in Gamerco.

They tore it out for the freeway
	the highway gone mad
	from its own singing rubber.
	They tore out my grandfather's store
	hand-worked sandstone and petrified wood
	polished by his hands.
	tore out the cafe where my grandmother
	baked pies and pumped gas.

They tore out the bedroom
	where my sister and I lay beneath a mountain of blankets
	listening to the clink of coffee cups
	through the thin cafe walls
	truckers playing "next of kin to the wayward wind"
	on the jukebox and "I walk the line"
	from the TOP O' THE WORLD bar across the highway.
	Indians passed out in the glitter of broken glass
	moths beat out their lives against glaring lights
	while stars shine in the cold space beyond.
	They didn't tear out the TOP O' THE WORLD bar -
	It's still there.

They tore out the old store
	the cafe, the house
	Christmas morning fireplace where
	excitement stockings heavy with nuts and tangerines
	crackle of fire and new toys.

They tore out the stuffed deer of childhood snapshots
	the old hogan
	burros with fancy saddles
	stuffed mountain lion
	curved glass cases
	buffalo head.

I watched it go by with a tattered teddy bear
	and red wagon under a piñon tree
	counted trucks on the highway
	with my grandfather
	sitting on the porch
	on his red cafe stool in the evening
	flakes of Bull Durham drifting
	from his gnarled hands
	as he gently rolled up the Riz-La wheatstraw
	and struck a match on the flagstone
	gleam of turquoise on his rough fingers.

Turquoise
	worked and polished by his hands
	My hands, growing old and wrinkled,
	old hands on a baby's smooth skin
	now she's fourteen
	has a boyfriend and wants a horse.
	Way of the world.

Grandfather's hands
	horse-roper, well-driller, whiskey-drinker, miner
	worn Levi's and a Stetson
	Spent the last years waking gasping for oxygen
	said it was the uranium dust got him
	Yellow earth for the bomb
	for the government - "atoms for peace"
	They took it off in boxcars
	Santa Fe line - we used to put pennies on the track
	ear on the rails to hear it coming
	headed for L.A.
	Lincoln's face left flat as a pancake.

And the whizzing chrome urged West
	except when they ran out of money,
	got busted, broke down.
	It all went by the reptiles, postcards 5¢,
	real Indian village, free water.

It went by Aunt Peggy - so full of life -
	a western woman - raised three sons -
	"scrape your boots" and "yes ma'am".
	Died of a blood disease, marriage wrecked,
	alone in small apartment surrounded
	by Zuni pots packed in cardboard boxes.

It went by Uncle Bert - alone in his trailer,
	eaten by diabetes, insulin, and alcohol.
	Spitting juice from soggy cigars
	at the windwing of his Wagoneer
	grieving the loss of two dogs and his right leg.
	The first run down on the highway,
	second poisoned, third lost to a cold winter.
	He put in that damn subdivision anyway.

It went by Cousin Jimmy, watching the two drunks
	drag their buddy from the bar on Front Street
	and shove his head under
	the wheels of a semi.

It went by Ruby Brimhall, little bird of a trader woman
	tough as nails, cussing away fear
	in a Gallup hospital where they opened her up
	belly full of cancer
	sewed her back up and sent her home to die.

It went by Bob Trout, Vietnam vet, sheriff of McKinley County
	son of Bill Trout, ex-sheriff.
	Bob Trout, busted for smuggling dope in a rented plane
	out on bail - rental records lost.
	Bob Trout, not busted for illegal gambling,
	federal investigator found in hills sans head.

It went by Chief Yellowhorse, buying jewelry from the hippies
	by the ounce, selling to the tourists out west of town
	"only genuine Indian-owned store at this exit".
	ran it out to L.A. in his Jag.

It went by my old man trying to fix the well
	with the wind freezing his fingers
	snow blowing over the asphalt ribbon - Highway 66.
	Trying to put out a fire in his store
	with blankets and buckets of water.
	Gave Eddie Yazzie ten dollars on an old pocket watch
	with a broken crystal and mainspring.
	He never came back.

Slowly went broke from too many groceries on credit
	over too many hard winters and because
	he wouldn't lie to the tourists
	Loaded up red Ford pickup and hit the highway.

We said goodbye to piñon trees
	to the dusty old snow drag where my sister and I
	ate taffy on a fork
	to the hill where we let the brake off Uncle Sonny's jeep
	headed straight for the highway
	going for a drive.

I kept on going.
	Phoenix San Francisco Seattle Lima Peru.
	Irresistible call of the seacoast.
	Prehistoric shell trade
	Hopi ceremony performed at ocean's edge
	foam blessed relic returned to Oraibi.

I came back too.
	Fire tower in the Zuni Mountains
	Tried to save second marriage
	made it through one summer and a hard winter
	lost it the second summer.


I stand on the land my grandfather left me
	and watch the trucks go by on the highway.
	I think I'll sell.

poems and photographs copyright Ted Greer

THEODORE GREER
Box 300
Jemez Springs, NM 87025
(505) 829-3090
http://www.sulphurcanyon.com/tgreer/